Chapter 4 - The Hunting Lodge
The line went dead, leaving a thick, suffocating silence inside the cold cabin of our damaged car.
Audrey stared at the black screen of my phone, her entire body trembling with a mixture of profound shock and rising terror.
Her mother, Martha, had turned a blind eye to the abuse for years, choosing the comfort of Ethan's wealth over her own daughter's safety.
Despite that deep, unforgivable betrayal, I knew Audrey could never live with the guilt if we allowed Ethan to execute her.
"We cannot just hand over this laptop," I stated firmly, closing the screen to protect the cartel laundering evidence.
"If we give him the evidence, he will simply kill all three of us and bury us in the woods," I reasoned.
Audrey wiped a rogue tear from her cheek, her expression hardening into something entirely new and fiercely resolute.
"Then we don't go there to surrender," she whispered, her voice surprisingly steady.
"We go there to finally end this."
I nodded, proud of the incredible strength radiating from the woman I had just married hours ago.
I quickly transferred the massive cartel ledger and the abuse recordings to a secure, hidden cloud server using an encrypted satellite link.
I then initiated a highly aggressive digital protocol that would automatically email the files to every major news outlet and federal agency if I did not enter a cancellation code within three hours.
We left the abandoned barn and drove cautiously toward the sprawling, heavily guarded hunting lodge on the edge of the mountains.
I parked the car a mile away from the main gate, hiding it deep within a thick grove of towering pine trees.
We hiked through the dense, freezing woods, guided only by the pale moonlight filtering through the heavy branches.
When we finally reached the perimeter of the massive estate, I spotted two armed guards patrolling the front entrance.
"Stay completely out of sight," I instructed Audrey, handing her my secondary, compact firearm.
I used the dark shadows to quietly maneuver around the back of the lodge, slipping through an unlocked kitchen window.
The house was eerily silent, smelling of expensive cigar smoke and old wood.
I drew my weapon and crept down the hallway, following the faint sound of classical music echoing from the main living room.
I peered around the corner and saw Ethan sitting comfortably in a leather armchair, swirling a glass of amber whiskey.
Martha was sitting on the sofa opposite him, her hands trembling as she held a pristine, silver revolver.
But the gun was not pointed at Ethan.
Martha had the heavy weapon pointed directly at the doorway I was standing behind.
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"Come out, Liam," Martha said, her voice completely devoid of any maternal warmth or fear.
"I have known you were standing there for two full minutes."
